


Running with the Wolves

by LotheringHeights (redseeker)



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Crack?, F/M, Love Triangles, Sibling Rivalry, Werewolf Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 12:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2692181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redseeker/pseuds/LotheringHeights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dragonborn returns to Whiterun after several months away, and is both bewildered and pleased by the welcome she receives from the wolf twins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running with the Wolves

The golden sunshine bathing the valley around Whiterun felt positively balmy to Indra after a long, frozen winter at Winterhold. The newly-named Archmage of the College of Winterhold guided her mount down the gently sloping road into the valley, and thence around the trail's meanderings, through the farms and holdings, at a slow and easy pace. The long road had left both her and Alfsigr exhausted, but even so, the closer they got to Whiterun stables, the more the mare's head strained forward as if she could smell the scent of safe, warm refuge. Indra could hardly blame her. 

As she looked up at the hill, with Dragonsreach surveying the vale atop it, she did feel a strange sense of homecoming. Strange, since she had been a wandering sellsword for much of her life, with never more of a home to call her own than wherever she stowed her pack and laid her head for the night. She still hadn't settled in one place, but since Helgen she had been lingering here or there far more than was her wont – most lately in the dusty towers of the College. She had found a place for herself there, much to everyone's surprise, and she knew that her suite would still be there whenever she had chance to return. However, there was one place in Skyrim she had been offered a bed and a home long before anywhere else – Jorrvaskr, where the Companions had welcomed her into the fold based solely on a test of her arm, and a glance to judge the nature of her character. She hoped she wouldn't be found wanting, even now. 

She left her horse at Whiterun Stables and made her way up to the city on foot. The sounds and smells of the city assailed her pleasantly as she walked through the gate. She smiled and nodded to Adrienne at work at the smithy just within, and then she turned her eyes uphill. Dragonsreach loomed over the whole town, but it was not to those halls Indra would head first. The Jarl would hardly miss his thane a few days more. 

Her feet guided her more than her eyes, and soon she was passing Talos's shrine and looking up at the ancient mead hall. She climbed the last few steps and pushed open the doors. 

Inside, the hall of Jorrvaskr was much unchanged. Indra found herself smiling. All voices quieted upon her arrival, and she looked around at her friends, at the surprise on their faces, and realised just how long she had been absent. It had been months... she had wintered in Winterhold, but it had taken a long time just to reach the far northern Hold. Her return had been slowed by side-trips, and her pack, slung over her shoulder now, bulged with the loot of a number of temples and crypts explored along the way. 

Nearest the door, Aela folded her arms and lifted her chin at her. A half smile tugged her lips. “Welcome, shield-sister. The halls of Jorrvaskr called you home at last.”

Indra smiled in return, and took it as her cue to settle. She dropped her pack on one chair and took another. Talk resumed, and Indra, welcomed back as if she hadn't been absent almost a full turning of the seasons, drank the Companions' mead, ate Tilma's cooking, and shared tales of valour and adventure with Aela and the others. 

While she ate she cast her eyes around the hall, up and down the length of the long tables. There were two faces she had hoped to see that were absent. 

As the meal was drawing to a close, Aela nodded to Indra's pack. “Before you get yourself settled, the boys will want to see you.” At Indra's silent look of questioning, the Huntress jerked her head toward the rear doors. “Pined like a couple of puppies,” she added. She rose, gave Indra an enigmatic smile, and then headed toward the stairs leading below. Others remained at table, but Indra had as good as been given an order. It didn't do to disobey the Huntress, Dragonborn or no.

She left her things where she had dropped them – no one would disturb them, she feared no thieves or harm within these halls. As she crossed the hall, she found herself adjusting her robes and running her fingers through her windswept hair. 

Outside, dusk had come and gone, and it was a warm spring night. Firelight illuminated the practice yard behind the hall, and the prowling figure pacing back and forth. He turned to look when the doors closed behind her, and his yellow-green eyes seemed to glow in the dark. 

As Indra stepped forward, the hulking shape resolved itself into Vilkas, clad in full armour and a great two-handed sword held in one hand as if it were light as a dagger. His hair was longer than she remembered, inky black tendrils curling at his brow, his craggy face stern and grim beneath a rugged growth of beard. Pined like a puppy, indeed. 

“I suppose you've gone soft, all this time among those northern mages,” he said.

Indra knew how most of the Companions felt about magic – trickery and foolishness, not fit for a true warrior. Suddenly she felt self-conscious in her soft grey robes instead of the sturdy armour she had left in. Self-conscious, and vulnerable. A mage's robes were little protection against the swing of a greatsword, after all. 

She recovered herself in a moment though, at least enough to lift her chin and meet his wolf's gaze defiantly. 

“See for yourself,” she said. She threw back the hood of her robe, and pushed the fabric away from her sword hilt before she drew it. Vilkas's luminous eyes glittered at the challenge and abruptly he grinned.

“All right,” he said. “Let's see how out of shape you've become, then.” He stepped back and lifted his sword.

Indra knew she had a grin to rival his own, all sharp teeth, as she stepped further into the yard, and she and Vilkas started to circle one another. 

A low grunt was the only warning she got before he charged at her. She brought her own, smaller sword up to block his blow, and when the blades clashed she felt the impact ringing through her whole body. But her winter in the mountains hadn't all been spent in the College libraries. Hunting trolls and ice wraiths in the snowy wastes had kept her strong and keen, as had exploring archaeological ruins for Tolfdir, clearing the places of draugr as she went. Conscious of her lack of armour or even a shield, Indra danced around Vilkas's sweeping blows, the heavy swing of his sword coming close to shearing her head from her shoulders more than once. As she continued to deflect and avoid, she saw his lips curl back from his teeth in a grimace of frustration and disgust. Scowling determinedly, Indra decided to push him. She didn't fight like a traditional Companion, perhaps, but she was no rookie, no longer a lost sellsword out of her depth among more seasoned blades. Shooting him a sneer of her own, she sidestepped a thundering downward swing, deflecting his sword with her own slender blade while at the same time bringing her left hand up, palm out, and sending a gout of flame toward his armoured chest. She didn't dare aim for his face, too afraid of causing him real damage.

It served the intended purpose, however, and startled the big warrior enough for him to stumble back. Indra pressed him, attacking with her sword and forcing him to block. They danced with one another for a while like that, blades clashing, flashes of flame driving Vilkas back whenever he pressed too close, always keeping him just off-balance enough. They fought until they were both sweating, both breathing in ragged pants. Vilkas had the greater stamina, however, and Indra felt her arm tiring until with one hammer-like blow against her sword, he succeeded in sending the slim Skyforge-steel blade skittering across the dusty yard.

Indra cried out as the blade was wrenched from her grip, and she retreated quickly, sinking into a defensive half-crouch. The rocky cliffside beneath the Skyforge hit her back, and Vilkas advanced on her, his sword complacently rested over his shoulder. He smiled condescendingly as he loomed over her slighter form. He looked so bitterly pleased, yet disappointed at the same time – his predictions had come true, Indra's time away had softened her. She was no longer fit to walk the halls of Jorrvaskr as a Companion.

Her eyes narrowed as she glared up at him. He was close enough to lean over her now, his free hand resting against the rock wall above her head. Insufferable pup, she thought. Any other warrior would have tired long before her, or else lacked the skill or strength to even stand up against a warrior of Vilkas's size and power, his strength and experience. How dare he find her lacking?

As he leaned in, those wolf's eyes meeting hers, she was too wrapped up in her seething thoughts to realise what was about to happen. Then his lips were on hers, and suddenly her body, exhausted and aching as it was, lit up with a new fire and vigour. Exhilaration set her senses alight, and her world was full of the scent of his sweat, the feel of his rough, dry lips against her own, and, as he forced his tongue into her mouth, the rich, animal taste of him. The wolf within her growled, and she felt an ache of an entirely different kind, centring between her trembling legs. 

She slumped against the wall, yielding, opening her mouth and letting him press her against the rock as his kiss became deeper, harder. After what seemed like an age, he drew back just enough to chuckle and mutter, “Was that the best you can do?”

Indra blinked up at him as though slapped out of a stupor. Sudden indignant fury boiled up within her, burning away all but the barest vestiges of lust. She had no sword, but she was far from unarmed, and she was far from spent. She had been holding back, for Talos's sake. She growled, and her lips formed the words almost without her conscious thought. Her anger gave them volume, and her _Shout_ seemed to resound throughout the whole of Whiterun vale. 

Vilkas tumbled away from her like a leaf, swearing, and it was only his massive sword plunged point-down into the dirt that stopped him from flying straight into the rocks on the other side of the yard. Still burning with righteous anger, Indra conjured a spectral blade to replace the sword the Companion had relieved her of. She stalked to where Vilkas was still cursing and snarling, struggling to right himself. She pointed the blade of the bound sword at his throat, to get his attention more than as actual threat. Still, when she spoke next the growl in her voice was not of a wolf, but a dragon. “Don't underestimate me, Vilkas. You haven't seen my best. Pray that you never have to.”

She turned away then, dissolving her blade back to nothing before she re-entered Jorrvaskr. She had a mind to be anywhere but Whiterun that night, but she would be damned if it looked like she would run away with her tail between her legs in fright after that little scuffle. 

Instead, she grabbed her pack from where she had left it and stormed down into the living quarters without exchanging a word with anyone. If she let herself think too much on what she had just done she was sure she would start shaking.

She found a vacant bed in the dorm and shoved her things beneath it, then stripped off her sweat-soaked robes and threw herself down on the warm, soft hides. 

She lay there in the dark and quiet for several minutes before she became aware of someone else awake. Opening her eyes, she saw one of the shadows move, sitting up on the bed opposite the one she had claimed. She stayed were she was, curled on her side, clad only in her underthings but hidden in the darkness. Wolf eyes were good in the dark, however, and a moment later she was able to make out Farkas sitting and watching her from the shadows. His eyes had the same luminous quality as his brother's. His smile, however, was warm rather than feral. 

“You're back, then,” he said, his voice a rough whisper.

“So it seems,” Indra said. She sat up and cocked her head. “I didn't see you at table tonight...”

Farkas shrugged with a non-committal grunt. The light of his eyes dimmed as he looked away, and he offered no answer. Indra's cheeks started to burn as she remembered the kind of greeting his brother had given her. Before she had left for Winterhold there had been a slight tension between both brothers and herself, but never anything to indicate to her anything like that might occur upon her return. It had probably just been the heat of the moment, she told herself – a show of dominance, encouraged by the excitement of their mock-battle. Or had it been a mock-battle? Vilkas had pushed her harder than he ever had when he tested her before. She studied Farkas's face in the dark, uncertain where things lay between them as well. 

“It's good to be back,” she said, at length. 

Farkas looked up, and after a moment he gave her one of his open, easy grins, and said, “Uhuh.” He sprawled back on the bed, and Indra curled on her side. She closed her eyes and listened to the Companions' breathing. After a time, she realised Farkas's hadn't changed, and she opened her eyes again and gazed across the room in the dark.

“Can't sleep?” she whispered.

“Tsk. Damn beast blood never changes,” he replied. “...Hey. Moon's up. You wanna run?”

“Gods, yes!” 

They were up in a heartbeat and creeping through the dark, quiet building. Indra didn't bother with robes or armour, and padded Jorrvaskr's wooden halls barefoot. The main hall was quiet, the firepit smouldering low.

Outside, the air was cooler, but still warm for a Skyrim night. Indra grinned, took a deep lungful of air, and then took off through the near-deserted streets of Whiterun. Farkas gave a shout, which he quickly stifled, and jogged after her. They made a game of dodging the patrolling guards, who no doubt would have been bemused by the unclad Nord woman laughing like a girl. 

She climbed over the wall between two guard towers, a spot she remembered from her early days in the city, when she'd had to dodge the guards for real or else end up in a cell. Farkas grumbled and followed, and in as much time as it took for him to mutter his complaints Indra was already dropping down on the far side of Whiterun's wall, the whole valley rolling away in velvety darkness before her. 

She didn't wait for her shield-brother to catch up before she dashed into the night. A few paces from the city she was already falling onto all fours as the transformation took her. She howled, rejoicing at the freedom of running and hunting unhindered, the whole wide world open for her. Farkas caught up, bounding up behind her fully transformed. He pounced her, and for a few moments they tumbled like pups, play-fighting and nipping before breaking apart and streaking like black shadows for the forest. There would be good hunting there, and beyond. They flowed over the land like two halves of the same creature, truly beasts of the same pack.

They ran until the first light of dawn lit the sky to the east. When at last Indra transformed back into her human shape, she was already asleep, exhausted from a full night's hunt. 

Morning found her curled naked on the forest floor, a warm, solid body behind her, limbs curled around her. Her sleep had been light and restless, but she was used to that effect of her beast blood by now. She still felt better than she had the day before, as though the fatigue of her long travel and the tension from her encounter with Vilkas had both been purged from her body. 

She yawned and made to rise. Farkas stirred when she tried to pull free of his arms – they must have curled up together as wolves when they fell asleep. He tightened his grip on her and tugged her back flush against his body. The growl was out of her throat before she thought about it, and Farkas woke enough to make an answering snarl. Indra wriggled playfully in his grip, until he opened his eyes with a louder growl and rolled her onto her back and pinned her, leaning on his elbow now so he could hover above her. He gave her a grin that was still a little too toothy for a human, and she responded by nipping at his lips. He laughed, and suddenly they were rolling in the soft leaves and grass of the forest floor, play-fighting and wrestling. Indra laughed and gave as good as she got, but somehow his strength and size still gave him the advantage, and several minutes later she found herself pinned beneath him again. They were both panting and laughing, and Indra's cheeks were warm with exertion. It was only when they stilled, and Farkas rested his brow against hers as they both caught their breath, that she remembered they were both naked. 

Suddenly the flush in her cheeks seemed to burn hot, and her heart thumped within her chest. She held herself still. Farkas seemed oblivious – at least, until he shifted, and Indra felt something slide against her thigh. She inhaled quickly, startled, and Farkas gave a self-deprecating laugh. 

“Eheh... sorry about that.” There was a growl to his voice, and his eyes still held a glint of yellow. Indra wondered if hers were the same. She swallowed, and then she leaned up slowly. Keeping eye contact, she flicked the tip of her tongue over Farkas's lower lip. 

The reaction was instantaneous, instinctive. He snarled and pressed her down with his mouth on hers, his tongue pushing deep, his teeth nipping. Indra tangled her hands into his shaggy hair and arched beneath him. Her legs parted, and then his body was between them, a warm, heavy hardness pressing and rocking against her. She answered his growls with her own, and the kiss became more heated, more animal. She tilted her hips up, unthinking, and shuddered as he rubbed his hard length up and down against her sex. 

Then his hands were on her hips, gripping her and flipping her over onto her stomach. She spluttered as she got a mouthful of grass, but her snarly protests were silenced when he grabbed a handful of her hair and lifted it from her neck, only to bite the back of her neck hard enough to bruise. All she could manage was a moan, and she dug her fingers into the soft earth beneath her. She lifted up her hips, her world spinning. Farkas licked over the spot he had just bitten, and bit again and held her pinned. He rubbed his cock against her for only a moment more before he found her opening and pushed inside. Indra yowled and writhed, but once again Farkas kept her pinned with his bulk. She was panting, her teeth were long and sharp, and her fingers were claws as they raked the grassy earth. Farkas pushed a little deeper with each thrust. He was big, and even though Indra was wet it was a stretch – a sweet, pleasurable stretch that had Indra shuddering almost at completion by the time he had simply got the entirety of his length inside her. When he was fully sheathed, he waited a moment, released his hold on her neck to lick the shell of her ear and inhale the scent of her hair. She felt his hot breath against her ear, against her neck, and whined and squirmed. She lifted her hips up higher and tried to rock them; she wanted, she _needed_... 

Farkas gave a low, rough laugh and gripped her hair again. He pressed her cheek to the grass and bit the side of her neck, the sensitive juncture between neck and shoulder. Then he started to move. His thrusts started out shallow and jerky, but soon became longer, deeper, until it felt to Indra he was sliding deep into the very core of her with every surge of his hips. She didn't last long before she was writhing through climax, and Farkas seemed to take this as his cue to release everything he had been holding back. His motions became more urgent, and Indra matched hers to his pace. Both his large hands slid down to grip her hips, holding her to make it easier for him to drive deep and hard, and his teeth remained fastened on her neck. Indra's world narrowed, she was aware of nothing else but the insistent drive of his hips, the throbbing of her cunt as he pounded into her again and again, stretching her wide and forcing her to accept the raw, bestial pleasure. She was sure she felt fur against her back before he came, though her mind was too focused on her own orgasm to register it. Farkas kept fucking her until they had both finished, and afterwards he stayed inside her for a while, lying atop her with his nose buried in her hair. 

In a haze of post-coital bliss, Indra lay still for what felt like a long time, while her breathing slowly evened out, and the aftershocks stopped making her twitch. Experimentally she tightened her pelvic muscles, clenching around Farkas's softening member, and smiled when it earned her a grunt. 

After a while, she said, “You missed me, then?”

Farkas chuckled and slowly lifted himself off her. He slipped out of her and rolled onto his back by her side. Indra pillowed her cheek on her arms and watched him. She hadn't planned for this to happen, hadn't really expected it. She suspected he had been just as caught in the moment as she, though she couldn't be sure. It seemed one brother had already harboured feelings for her she hadn't been aware of before her sojourn in Winterhold – what was to stop the other twin from doing the same? Nevertheless, her body felt lax and languid in the wake of their encounter, and she couldn't keep the smile from her face. She was happy to be home at last.


End file.
